


La Vingtième

by lirin



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: After the first test of Lady Blakeney's acting skills at the Paris gates, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes is impressed, Sir Percy Blakeney is besotted, and the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel is about to get a little bit bigger.
Relationships: Marguerite Blakeney/Percy Blakeney, Percy Blakeney & Andrew Ffoulkes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	La Vingtième

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuKestrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuKestrel/gifts).



Andrew Ffoulkes led the French refugees off of the _Day Dream_ as soon as the yacht had tied up at the dock. He would take his time handing them off to Jellyband at "The Fisherman's Rest", and hopefully in the meantime the Blakeneys would have completed their transformations from decrepit working-class Parisians into London's _élite_ with those they had rescued none the wiser, and hopefully unaware that the Blakeneys had ever been on board.

The Blakeneys had remained in their cabin for the entire crossing—no doubt partially out of a desire to remain anonymous to their beneficiaries, but also, Andrew suspected, making up for the ordeal of spending most of the last week apart on their separate portions of the mission in France. They were so soppily in love with each other these days—had been ever since the rescue of St. Just and de Tournay several months prior, and still showed no signs of slowing their ardor any time soon. The members of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel all thoroughly approved of this state of affairs; their chief no longer had random spells of lovesick sadness, and besides, the cleverest actress in Europe wasn't a half bad addition to their schemes. At the gates of Paris, she'd drawn so much attention to herself and the cart she drove that the guards would remember her and be able to describe what they'd seen for quite some time—while Percy's cart, the one loaded down with fugitives, escaped their attention by comparison. And she hadn't even done anything in particular to make herself memorable; it was just that magnetic stage presence that once held every single occupant of the Faubourg Saint-Germain theater in the palm of her hand, all concentrated on those few guards. It was as skillful as anything he'd ever seen Percy do at those gates; she'd taken to the work like a natural.

Yes, Andrew thought, as he sat down in the coffee-room of "The Fisherman's Rest" with a mug of Jellyband's finest in front of him, surveying the handful of _ci-devant aristos_ who were now safe thanks to his and his friends' interference—there were good days ahead for the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

***

Well scrubbed and perfectly coiffed, the Blakeneys made their entrance a good half hour later: enough time to claim that they hadn't been on board the _Day Dream_ at all. Just complete coincidence that they happened to be dropping by here—except of course it was their yacht, but they let friends borrow it all the time, don't you know.

Andrew affected the appropriate amount of surprise at their arrival—or perhaps just a tad more than appropriate, but then his acting skills were nowhere near the level of either of the Blakeneys. As soon as he could, he arranged with Jellyband for a private sitting-room for himself and the Blakeneys, and then at last—for a time—the acting was at an end.

Percy immediately bubbled over, as expected. "Did you see how my wife convinced the guards that she was a middle-aged washer woman without even wearing grease paint? Demme, but I am married to a clever woman."

"No cleverer than you are," Marguerite replied, putting a hand on her husband's arm. "And yours was the harder part. If my cart had been searched, there was no one within to be found. But you—you were in more danger than I, every minute."

Percy turned to gaze into her eyes. "It is your faith in me, m'dear, that makes that danger so easy to bear. And your company made it even more bearable than it has ever been before—and yet also less so, because you were walking into danger at my side."

"Who better to walk into danger beside than the brave and handsome Scarlet Pimpernel?" Marguerite replied.

Andrew coughed. "I do believe I shall retire early tonight and leave the sitting-room to you."

Percy started as Andrew's statement recalled him from his romantic preoccupation. "I'll walk you to your room," he said. "If you'll excuse me for a minute, m'dear?"

"Of course, my love," she replied. "Good-night, Sir Andrew."

"Good-night, Lady Blakeney." Andrew bowed and followed Percy out into the hall. It was a maneuver they had done so many times—make their excuses, be alone briefly together while walking from one place to another, and use that time for hastily whispered conferences and instructions. Except that was not quite as necessary as it once was—Marguerite was included in her husband's secrets now, so there was no need to leave her behind to-night for hasty hallway mutterings. Perhaps Percy only meant to give him some company, after all. "I had thought we were beyond avoiding your wife when whispering of league business," Andrew teased. "If you have anything to discuss, could we not have spoken of it in your nice warm sitting-room?"

"It is league business of a sort," Percy said. "The one sort that I would still keep secret from her, until—unless—it is decided. Do you suppose—what would you think if we made Marguerite an official member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel? One to command, and twenty to obey, what?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea, but why are you asking me?" Andrew replied. "Percy, surely you know that whatever you decide to do with the league, we will all whole-heartedly support. The league is your creation and your possession, and you needn't ask anyone else for input."

"You have all been loyal to me for so long," Percy said "I wouldn't want any of you to think that I was taking advantage of my position. You all leave wives and family behind as you journey time after time into danger, and now here I am coming up with reasons why I shouldn't have to leave my wife behind like all the rest."

"If anything, Percy, you deserve to take advantage of your position," Andrew said, grinning. "You've devoted more of your life to it by far than any of us have. And if you had the sort of wife who is only at home in drawing-rooms and gardens and faints at the sight of blood and speaks not a word of French, you would still have the right to bring her along if that was what you wished to do. But we both know that Lady Blakeney isn't that sort of wife. She's the finest actress any of us have ever met, and they don't call her the cleverest woman in Europe for nothing. Her assistance was invaluable on this trip."

"I thought so too," Percy said. "Having her on that second cart left you and Tony free to create distractions elsewhere, and of course it's always easier when it's actually a woman playing a woman, y'know. Less chance of the guards realizing one's bosom is only sham. And she played her part perfectly, and she didn't get flustered when the guards decided to search her cart a second time—"

"And she's waiting in your sitting-room for you to return to her, and you had better not keep her waiting any longer," Andrew said. "Good-night, Percy."

"Good-night," Percy said brightly, and hurried off to rejoin his wife. Andrew smiled as he in turn headed for his soft, warm, tree-root-less bed. Percy had been distraught over his marriage for so long; it was a joy to see him so happy at long last. It would have been pleasant enough if Percy had merely finally been able to tell his wife about his secret life; that she was able to join him in that life was another joy altogether. And Percy had given joy to so many people's lives—Andrew's included, with the rescue of the de Tournays—that he deserved all the joy he could get.

And with the thought of one particular de Tournay—one who bore that name no longer—Andrew's thoughts took a different tack entirely, and both the Blakeneys and the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel were forgotten for the nonce.

But it is a fact that at the next dinner party hosted by Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney, there was a mix-up with the carriages that delayed the departure of the Dewhursts, the Ffoulkeses, and several other of the Blakeneys' close associates. In fact, a list of those whose departure was delayed might have been observed to have much in common with a list of those who had been suspected at one time or another of being associates of the Scarlet Pimpernel—except, of course, that any who might have made such an observation had already departed in their own carriages and were blissfully unaware.

And on that spring evening, before the twenty members of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel and the few others who knew their secrets, Lady Marguerite Blakeney pledged herself to Sir Percy Blakeney for the second time in her life. She swore to obey the orders of the Scarlet Pimpernel, to follow him in rescuing the innocent, to keep all his secrets, and never to reveal her association with the Scarlet Pimpernel without great cause. "And to love the Scarlet Pimpernel forevermore," she added when the official forms of the oath were complete.

And what could the Scarlet Pimpernel do in response to that but to kiss his wife quite soundly before them all?

Applause filled the room. "That last part wasn't in the oath the rest of us took," Sir Andrew Ffoulkes whispered to his own wife, who was also there to see her dear erstwhile school-fellow join the celebrated league.

"I'm very happy for them both," Suzanne whispered back. And indeed, so were they all.


End file.
